Parenting for Dummies
by Desmothenes87
Summary: Short stories branching out from my Hidden Dragon, Crouching Tiger verse. Rated K for now, but rating might go up depending on the stories, just to be safe. Story 10 - Some father son traditions are meant to be broken.
1. Parenting For Dummies

**A/N:** I'm creating some short stories from my Hidden Dragon Crouching Tiger verse, so if you haven't read that story, I'd recommend you read it first. I'm also working on developing a longer story, a Christmas one in time for the holidays. I hope to have something posted in the next week or so, but am not sure yet.

Since there is no precedent for these types of stories in White Collar, I will do my best to keep everyone in character. As always I am open to suggestions, comments, or ideas for shorts. I selected the title based on the popular series of "… for Dummies." Thought it would be cute to write stories based on the different chapter titles since Peter and El are new to parenthood.

All characters from the show belong to the amazing Jeff Easton and I gain nothing from writing these stories, except hopefully a nice sense of accomplishment. Enjoy!

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**Parenting for Dummies**

Neal knocked on the door of Peter's office and walked in before the agent could tell him otherwise. He raised an eyebrow as the man glanced up startled and then slammed shut the book he was reading, opening some files on top.

"Can I help you Neal?" Peter carefully smoothed the papers down, grabbing for a pen and knocking over the penholder in the process. The agent swore under his breath and tried to gather the pens back up and get them back in the cup. Neal chuckled and picked up the single ballpoint that had dropped onto the floor.

"Just thought you'd enjoy the pleasure of my company."

Peter glared and snatched up the pen that Neal offered. "I'm really busy right now, so unless you need something important, get out."

Neal looked away for a moment, as if relenting, then in a deft movement, reached forward and yanked the book Peter had hidden, from under the file folders.

"Hey," Peter yelped, grabbing for the book, but was unsuccessful at getting it back from Neal.

The other man turned it over in his hands, first pursing his lips and then laughing. "Parenting for Dummies. Wow Peter… Is this an admission of guilt?"

Reaching across the desk, Peter managed to catch the book in his fingers and rip it back out of Neal's fingertips.

"It's not anything. El and I are just new to this whole parenting thing." The agent flipped the book over so the cover was facing down. "It never hurts to know what I'm getting myself into."

"Right." Neal steepled his fingers together, staring at Peter from over-top. "So…"

"So what?"

"What have you learned?" Neal took a deep breath, and then bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He didn't want Peter so upset with him that the man threw him out of his office before Neal got some good dirt.

Peter just shrugged for a moment, looking around at everything but Neal. "It's useful. I guess. I mean, it deals more with infants and Ender well, he's you know… Six. But yeah… Hopefully that later chapters will have lots more good information. Because I'm feeling a bit lost right now." He drummed his fingers on top of desk, still not meeting Neal's eyes.

"Is he crying?" Neal asked. If Peter didn't like crying women, it stood to reason he'd also have difficulty with crying children.

"Yes." Peter leaned forward, a look of consternation on his face. "And then El got all upset with me when I told him to cowboy up the other day." The agent looked exasperated by this. "He's a boy. You're supposed to be hard on them. It toughens then up. You know how it is." He placed his hands flat on the desk and studied them for a moment. "But she says I need to be more understanding."

"What was he crying about?"

There was a pause and Peter flexed his fingers in the air looking bewildered. "No idea." He looked up. "He wasn't hurt, he wasn't sick…" The agent shook his head. "Some days he's like this perfect little miniature adult, and then others he's a clingy, nervous wreck."

"And his room." Peter eyes were wide.

"A mess?" Neal took a guess based on Peter's face.

"No, it's beyond perfect. It's like he used a ruler to space out his closet. I've never seen anything like it."

Neal just shrugged. "Sometimes when you don't have a lot of control in your life, you try to find order any way you can. It's human nature. Either that or he's just really organised."

"I guess." Peter looked around again. "I just thought parenting would be easier. On television the couple adopts the kid and they're just so happy to have a family that everything works itself out. They hug and that's right about the time the film ends," his voice trailed off like he was considering that aspect of the film's timing.

This time Neal couldn't hold back the chuckle. "Agent Peter Burke trusting something he saw on a television show? Either pigs are flying or hell has frozen over."

The agent shook his head. "I just want to do this right. I want to be a good father. But it feels like there's so much I don't know. And what I am doing isn't enough."

As much as Neal thought it was funny that Peter would resort to pop culture books for tips on parenting he knew from that statement Peter was serious in trying to do the right thing.

"Peter, you adopted a child who spent the last year of his life being forced to steal by a sociopath who threatened his and his friends lives if he didn't do what she wanted. I think there'd be something wrong if he wasn't at least a little messed up from the experience. Considering everything he went through I actually think he came out pretty undamaged, if some crying and an overly neat room is all you're dealing with."

"But what do I do if I can't say cowboy up?" Peter looked desperate. "What's wrong with cowboy up anyway? It works for you."

"I should cry in front of El and she if she gets mad at you for saying it to me."

"You wouldn't."

"Next time I'm over there, I might have to conduct a little experiment. You know how much El adores me." Neal smirked.

"Ever heard the expression, do that and I'll give you something to cry about?"

Neal's eyes suddenly went wide and he placed his hands on the desk. "Threatening your CI? Peter, I'm impressed. You are not the moral, upstanding agent I once thought you were. Want to rob a bank together? I heard American National is upgrading their security system."

Peter stood up and pointed towards the door. "Out."

"We could do it with Ender. It would be a great father/son bonding activity."

The agent just pointed at the door again, more forcefully this time.

"All right I'm going." Neal jumped up and headed for the door. "Enjoy your reading material. The title is definitely fitting for you."

At the door he turned back around. "Oh and if you change you mind about that bank, Mozzie was just telling me…" Neal started to say, then ducked as the book went flying at his head.


	2. For This We Give Thanks

**A/N:** Just a little short in honour of Thanksgiving. Hope you enjoy...

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**For This We Give Thanks**

It was the Monday after Thanksgiving, and Neal was sitting at his desk trying to get a handle on some paperwork he'd missed over the holiday. Normally he would foist it off on an unsuspecting probie, but most people hadn't made it into the office yet and Peter had threatened him with a box full of mortgage fraud cases if he got caught fleecing the junior agents again. For some reason Peter just couldn't appreciate his desire to help them develop their writing skills.

Speaking of Peter the elevator dinged and said agent walked off, followed by his son who quickly darted to the front with a very obvious scowl on his face.

Neal couldn't hear what was being said but it looked like Peter was trying to explain something and Ender was ignoring him. When the kid made it to the door he yanked it open and stalked through without holding it open for Peter. His little fists were jammed into his coat pockets and hairs peaked out from underneath his knit cap. The kid suddenly reached up and pulled his hat off, static electricity playing havoc with his blond locks.

"Hey," Neal gave a wave at the kid as he walked by. "How was your Thanksgiving? Did you have fun with Peter's family?"

Ender didn't even respond, which was unusual for him. He just stalked up the stairs, pushed Peter's office door open and then slammed it shut.

Peter arrived a moment later at Neal's desk looking flustered and pissed off.

"That good huh," Neal commented upon seeing the agent's expression. "What happened? Your nieces try to braid his hair, because if they did and you didn't take pictures, I'm going to be very upset."

"No," Peter just looked frustrated. "He's just being a brat and I'm getting tired of it."

"Did he insult your mother's secret family recipe?" Neal tried and failed to keep the smirk off his face. Every year Peter and El visited Peter's family over the Thanksgiving holiday, and Peter always raved, the week leading up to the holiday, about his mother's cooking. The conman had tried not to feel jealous that he once again had to stay in his two-mile radius, while this year Ender got to meet the people who made Peter who he was today. There had to be some great blackmail stories he was missing out on.

Peter looked like he was about to respond then changed the subject. "Doing your own paperwork for once? I'm impressed, I might have to give you a raise."

"Really?" Neal perked up, despite Peter's obvious attempts to avoid answering the question. It was always nice when the agent appreciated his talents.

The agent's smile suddenly dropped to a serious expression. "No. But I'll buy you lunch from Toni's."

"Wow, where everything cost under five dollars. You're all heart Agent Burke." Neal pouted and dropped back into his chair.

"That's why I'm the boss," Peter told him with a smirk and then headed up to office, presumably to talk with Ender again. The kid was now sitting in his dad's chair, spinning around in circles and staring at the ceiling.

Neal watched as Peter ascended the stairs and headed towards if office.

"You going to tell me why he's mad at you?" Whatever had happened it looked bigger than the typical disagreements over bedtime, and homework.

Peter just waved his hand and headed into the office.

_Fine, don't tell me,_ Neal thought. _I didn't want to know anyway._

* * *

Neal managed to make it until lunch, before he decided to try pestering Peter again. Ender had sat in sulky silence for the entire morning, and was now just starring at his sandwich and refusing to eat. Not that Neal could blame him much for the lack of appetite. Any shop where the meat all looked the same definitely needed a visit from the health inspector.

Peter didn't look like he was in the greatest mood either, but at least he was eating his devilled ham sandwich. At least there was one good thing that came of today. A few minutes later Peter threw down his sandwich and looked over at the pouting kid sitting across from him. "You can't go on this hunger strike forever, Ender."

That caught Neal's attention.

Ender just looked up and scowled. "Watch me."

Peter looked like he wanted to put a fist threw the wall, but after a moment he took a deep breath as if trying to calm himself back down. "I'm sorry about Tom. But just because you're upset with me does not mean you get to pout and act like a brat till it suits you to stop. Now eat your lunch, or you can sit in a corner back at the office."

"I'll take the corner," Ender muttered, but his lower lip quivered.

"What was that?" Peter's voice had a hard tone.

The kid didn't repeat what he said but just stared at his place with his lip stuck out.

"So," Neal jumped in trying to break the awkward silence. "I'm definitely missing something here."

For a moment all that could be heard was the sound of other guests chattering in the background.

Finally Peter seemed to relent. "Our family has a tradition," he started out. "Every year we get a turkey together."

"Isn't that what most people do… for thanksgiving?" Neal guessed.

"From a turkey farm." Peter finished and then looked down at the remains of his sandwich.

Neal paused for a moment, considering everything Peter had told him. Suddenly his faced went from puzzled to the classic O. He nodded up and down to give himself a moment to think of what to say. "So Tom…"

"He didn't feel a thing. I told you, they made sure it was quick." Peter mimed the classic gesture of the finger across the throat. Maybe not the most considerate thing to do at the moment, but El wasn't there to glare at him.

"You murdered him." Ender blurted out. "You asked me to choose the turkey I liked and then you had him executed, just for the crime of being there the day before Thanksgiving."

"It's Thanksgiving. National turkey day. The day we give thanks for…" Peter paused trying to get the words out. "Everything we have, while we're enjoying our turkey dinner."

"I don't think Tom's very thankful right now." Ender stated, glaring across the table.

"I'm sorry kiddo, really I am. I thought you understood what we were doing?" Peter really did look apologetic. "But it's not like you haven't eaten turkey before." Ender ate meat, so Peter was unsure about this sudden interest in animal rights.

"Not real turkeys. Supermarket turkeys." The kid's expression radiated, _Duh_. "They don't have all those feathers, or feet, or eyes that are staring at you."

"Ender, the butcher takes it off all those things before he sells the turkey at the supermarket. But all turkeys are alive first." Peter looked down and his voice trailed off. Apparently it was the wrong thing to say, because Ender's eyes went wide. He glanced at his sandwich then pushed it away.

"Great," Peter muttered and stared at his watch. It was a sad state of affairs when he was trying to rush through lunch and get back to his paperwork. "Look, I don't know how many more times I can say I'm sorry, all right. But you can't stay angry with me forever. And you're not allowed to starve yourself, just because you're upset."

Ender looked down and bit his lip then looked up and nodded. "But I get to stay mad at you for one more day." He quickly added on, holding up his index finger to help make his point.

"What is this, a negotiation?" Peter was shaking his head. He was about to say something else when his phone starting ringing. Muttering under his breath he got up.

"Hello? Oh hey Jones, what have you got?" The agent walked away, phone to his ear.

Neal watched Peter go and then turned back to the smirking kid. "A turkey, seriously? You like meat."

"In my defence, I didn't expect for them to kill him." Ender shrugged. "He even ate corn from my hand. I was very traumatised when they gave him to us shrink-wrapped in plastic."

"Okay, that explains the sulking, but a starvation diet? Four days after Thanksgiving?"

The kid pointed at the sandwich and rolled his eyes. "Have you seen my resume, his family probably already thought I was a little freak, I hated to let anyone down. How am I doing?"

"The turkey was a good call, but the hunger strike might be a bit of overkill."

"Fine." Ender scrunched his face up. "I'll only stay mad at him for half a day. Although," the kid suddenly perked up. "El wants me to write a letter to Santa tomorrow. Think I'd get a better present if I held out a little longer about the trauma I'm currently under?"

"The secret of being a top-notch con man is being able to know what the mark wants, and how to make him think he's getting it."

"I thought I was one trying to get something."

"That's the beauty of the con. Getting both people what they want. You want good presents they want you to be happy."

Neal picked up his water bottle. "I'll make a conman of you yet. Cheers."

"To us." Ender tapped his own water bottle against Neal's.

"Now please tell me you got some good blackmail stories on Peter?"

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry I haven't updated until now. I have several shorts partially finished, but I'm having a bit of writer's block, trying to get everyone to sound in character. I'm hoping to have the first chapter of my longer story up soon. As I think I said before I'm planning a Christmas story.


	3. Squelching Squabbling Sibblings

**A/N**: Characterisation feels a bit off, but it was fun to write. I think anyone who has a brother or sister has had this sort of argument while riding in a car at least once. And who can forget, "The invisible line".

**Squelching Squabbling Siblings**

You know that invisible line parents draw in the middle of the back seat of the car. The one neither person sitting in the back seat is supposed to cross, so the parents get some peace and quiet during a car ride. Since it never worked for him and his brothers Peter had no idea why he thought it would work with his own kids.

"Neal's on my side of the car," Ender complained.

"Am not," Neal, shot right back. "He's on my side."

"This is the line, right here." Ender forcefully traced his finger back and forth across the middle seat. "And you keep coming over here. To _MY_ side."

"You're not pointing to the middle. The middle is over here." Neal traced his fingers several inches to the right of where Ender's finger was.

"No! That's my side. Daddy… He's on my side of the car. Make him go back to his side." Ender puckered his face up with tears in his eyes.

"Oh for god's sake, those aren't even real tears." Neal hated it that someone else got to use tricks most people said he was too old for. "Peter, those are fake tears."

Ender looked at Neal with big sad blue eyes, tears dripping down his face. "Fake, you're saying I'm fake? But it's mean to call people names."

Neal looked at Ender then at Peter, then back at Ender, Neal's face displaying disbelief. "Peter, are you buying any of this?"

"Enough," Peter shouted from the drivers seat. "Just stop, both of you. And stay on your own sides of the freaking car."

"Peter… honey, it's okay… Just calm down." El soothed from the passenger seat.

"They're acting like brats."

"Sibling rivalry," El hissed back. "Just stay calm, you getting mad only makes it worse."

"None of this would be a problem if I got to sit in the front," Neal muttered to himself, but still loud enough for Peter to hear.

"That's mommy's seat." Ender told him, with his arms folded across his chest. "You can't sit there when she's riding in the car. It would be un-chivalrous."

"It would be un-chivalrous," Neal snit, folding his own arms across his chest. He loved El dearly, but he had grown accustomed to sitting shotgun, him and Peter driving around the city, or staking out a potential suspect. There were rules and patterns, and now everything was being disrupted.

"You're supposed to be a gentleman," Ender informed him, in an officious tone.

"And you're supposed to be less annoying," Neal responded.

"Can we just stop arguing and actually make it to dinner without anyone drawing blood?" El sang sweetly from the front seat.

"He started it," Neal snit.

"He started it," Ender mimicked in the classic picture of annoying little brother.

Both seemed to take a hint though because there was quiet for the next few minutes and Peter was able to here the announcer, commentating on the Yankees came.

"And there's Chamberlain with a line drive. Phillips fumbles the ball, and he's safe at first." Came over the radio.

"Come on Yankees," Peter cheered to himself more than anything. El liked watching baseball with him, for the most part, but it wasn't to the same level of devotion Peter had for the sport. And Neal had made it quite clear he'd rather spend the day staring at splotches of paint thrown on a canvas than at a ball game. And Neal said Peter had no sense of culture.

"Yeah, come on Yankees," Ender cheered, pumping his fists in the air.

Peter grinned. He didn't think Ender had any idea what he was cheering for, but come spring he was putting "his son" in little league. Finally, he felt like he had something the two of them could really bond over. And wasn't this every father's dream? To raise a star baseball player.

Neal just turned to stare out the window his face drawn up in a scowl. A few minutes later he felt something poke his leg, but when he looked over, Ender's hands were carefully folded in his lap, and he was dutifully staring at the back of the seat in front of him.

Two could play at this came, and Neal snuck a look at Peter, who seemed to watch traffic better when his wife was in the car, and then reached over and yanked on Ender's hair. It was a completely childish move, but the kid's hair was getting rather long for being a boy.

To his credit, Ender didn't cry out, but whipped around to stare at Neal, an expression of surprise and a bit of a smile on his face as well.

Ender looked like he was contemplating his next move when Neal reached out again and poked him in the ribs.

The kid jerked away, dropping his arm to protect his side. "That tickles," he squealed. "Daddy, he's tickling me."

"Tattletale," Neal hissed, poking him again. He and Ender loved to argue and it was usually to annoy Peter more than anything, because it was funny to watch the other man's face turn bright red when they worked him up. But every once in a while Neal liked to be one up on the kid.

Ender jerked back again giggling, and trying to cover his ribs. "It's not fair, stop," he managed to get out between laughter, as Neal kept poking him with his fingers.

"Please, I give up," the kid gasped out, squirming, but unable to get away because of the seat belt fastened across his chest and waist.

Peter found a parking spot across the street from the restaurant they were going to, and parked the car. "Finally," he groused. "That was worse than driving in five o'clock traffic."

"And if I were to call your mother she'd say you and your brother's were just as bad." Leave it to El to take their side. Peter turned off the ignition and got out, slamming the door a little harder than was probably necessary.

"Boy's," El's voice was sharp as she turned around to face the back seat. They were suddenly sitting perfectly straight with hands folded, and two pairs of guilty blue eyes stared back at her. "I know for a fact you two planned this little fight back at the house. Don't make me have both of you sit in the car while eat with Peter, because believe me, it will be a long wait."

"I'm good," Ender said, unbuckling his seat belt and evacuating the car as fast as possible, running over to grab Peter's hand to cross the street.

"We wouldn't do it if he didn't react so much," Neal pointed out. Then at her face, "Oh come on El. I can't have at least a little fun. I was an only child. I'm making up for lost time."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't raise Peter's blood pressure too much." She warned as the two of them exited the car.

"Right, so I won't order the five pound lobster." Neal told her. "But the caviar appetizer and filet minion is to die for at this place."


	4. HandEye Coordination

**A/N:** I was watching some kids play catch the other day, and this little scene came to mind. Not my best work, but I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Hand/Eye Coordination**

Peter was thrilled to finally start teaching his son baseball. The agent had started out in t-ball at age five and worked his way up through the levels of Little League and college ball till he made it to the minors. He sometimes wondered what his life might have been like if he hadn't injured his arm, but in the end those thoughts were irrelevant, since he wouldn't have met El.

But while his lost baseball career was water under the bridge, Peter was excited to start Ender into Little League this coming summer. He'd be seven and old enough to start in the player pitch league, so Peter was determined that his baseball skills would be top notch. After all, he needed to be picked for a decent team.

Peter had gone shopping at the sporting goods store on his way home from work on Friday, and purchased a child's size glove and bat and some new baseballs.

Ender wasn't exactly as thrilled as Peter hoped, but he hadn't refused to play. For the sake of avoiding anymore sibling rivalry, Peter asked Neal to join them. Technically he'd bribed him with a trip to a museum outside his radius, but that was strictly semantics.

It was the perfect Saturday to practice. Sunny and warm, but not so warm it would uncomfortable to run around in.

"The glove goes on your left hand," Peter was trying to get everything set up so they could start a round of catch. "Like a regular glove, you just feed your fingers into each one of the finger holes."

"Neal!" Peter snapped a few seconds later. "Put the glove on your left hand."

Neal was currently staring at the piece of leather with a look of extreme distaste plastered of his face. "Peter that thing is all dirty, and are those sweat stains? You really expect me to put my hand in there?"

"Yes!" The agent hissed at him. "Set a good example for Ender, big brother, and get your freaking hand inside that glove."

"How come he gets a new glove and I get something that looks the a truck ran over it? Should the runt get the hand-me-downs" Neal finally took the glove in-between his thumb and forefinger, holding it away, as if worried it carried the plague or something.

"It's too big for him, it's my old college glove. Meaning I used it when I _played_ college ball. It's a good glove, and already broken in."

"It's more than broken in, it looks dead," Neal still held the glove at arms length.

"Fine, take this one. I used it during my minor league days," Peter held out his other glove, which Neal made a face at as well.

"That one looks just as bad."

Peter threw up his hands. "Then don't play. You're the one who keeps wanting to be included in everything. But if you don't play, I'm giving your museum tickets to someone else."

That threat finally made Neal slip the glove on his hand, cringing as he did so. "Fine, but just so you know this is cruel and unusual punishment, and I'm lodging a complaint with Hughes."

"Be my guest." Peter turned back to where Ender had abandoned his glove on the ground, and was currently turning back handsprings. The agent cringed every time he saw the kid practice because he worried Ender would land on his hand. It had yet to happen, but Peter now knew what is parents must have felt like every time he was on doing some daredevil stunt.

"Kiddo, come here." He picked up the glove where it lay, and Ender stopped and trotted obediently over. "Glove goes on your left hand."

"What if I can't catch the ball?" Ender asked, while Peter helped in slip his fingers in the glove.

"That's why we're practicing." Peter wasn't too concerned considering the kid had great hand eye coordination in everything he did. "But I won't throw anything too hard all right."

Ender just shrugged. "Okay." And then did a back flip with the glove now on his hand. Peter rolled his eyes and then placed his hands on either side of the kids shoulders to keep him from bouncing around like a human spring.

"So you throw to Neal, he'll throw to me, and I'll throw to you. Then we can trade and go the other way. Just stand right there, hold your glove like this and don't move." Peter demonstrated a good ready position with his glove, that the kid carefully mimicked.

Peter then spread himself and Neal out across the yard. Neal was shaking his gloved hand every once in a while, as if that would keep him from contracting any germs, the glove had on it. Peter picked up the ball and underhanded it to Ender. He kept it gentle so it would be an easy catch.

The ball went up, and landed a couple feet in front of the kid who stood still holding his glove like Peter had showed him.

The kid stared at the ball and then at Peter. Neal snickered, and Ender threw him a dirty look.

"You're supposed to catch the ball with your glove," Peter told him.

"You said I wasn't supposed to move. This is how you told me to stand."

"I meant stop turning flips all over the yard. You're acting like a circus monkey." Peter couldn't believe how literal kids took things. "You move around when the ball is thrown at you, so you get into the best place to catch the ball."

Ender stood there with his hands on his hips.

"What now?" Peter asked.

"You called me a circus monkey. Why can you call me names, but I got in trouble last week when I said Hughes was being a jerk."

"Because you called Hughes that to his face," Neal piped in.

Peter shot him a look and Neal looked sufficiently cowed.

"I just meant you were acting silly. I'm sorry all right." Kids were so tit for tat. "Just get the ball and throw it to Neal." Peter tried to remember if it was this difficult when his father taught him how to catch. He didn't want to ask El because she'd take a side and it wouldn't be his.

Peter was pleased to see the kid actually had a pretty good arm, because the ball reached Neal with some force. Neal also wasn't devoid of sports skills because he was easily caught the ball in his glove. Neal tossed it to Peter and after a few more times they got a nice little pattern going, with the ball tossed from person to person.

"Throw like Neal Daddy. I'm not a baby," Ender told him after the seventh or so round.

"Yeah, Peter. I thought you pitched in college. I'm mean seriously, were you on the girl's slow pitch team."

Peter just rolled his eyes. "Fine, here." He tossed the ball over hand and up so it would resemble a pop fly. Ender clearly had the right idea because he turned around since the ball was going behind him, but as the ball came down it caught the top of his glove and bounced off, instead of settling into the pocket.

The next thing Peter saw was a golden blur, and the ball disappearing.

"He stole my baseball," Ender squealed. "Give me back my ball Satchmo." And he took off running after the dog.

The golden Lab had been lying on the back deck watching the game, and clearly waiting for an opportunity to chase the baseball, which finally arrived.

"Give me my ball you mutt," Ender screamed, as Satchmo leapt and danced about, clearly excited that he was finally allowed in on the fun.

"Satchmo," Peter yelled. "Satchmo, give me the…" He started forward as Satchmo came near, but then the dog skidded away clearly unwilling to give up his prize, forcing Peter to put his hands on the ground to keep from falling over completely.

"Satch," Neal shouted. "Come on Satch." He whistled trying to get the dog's attention, but Satchmo wasn't listening as he ducked under the lawn table and chairs, playing keep away.

Peter had to admire Ender's tenacity, because the kid had chased the dog the entire time, crawling under the table as well.

"Satchmo, you're not being a team player." Ender was clearly getting tired because he now stood at one end of the yard watching the dog leap and dodge down at the other end, as he shouted at him.

Suddenly there was an ear-piercing whistle. "Satch, drop the ball." Elizabeth had finally come outside and was standing on the back porch with her arms folded. Satchmo seemed to stop mid leap and suddenly dropped the ball. At Elizabeth's forceful point to the back door, he slid his tail between his legs and slunk across the yard into the house.

"Thanks El," was all Peter could manage to get out as he waved her off. Even the dog wasn't listening to him nowadays. It was kind-of embarrassing.

Ender's face lit up and he ran over to the ball, picking it up and promptly dropped it back on the ground.

"Daddy, there's dog drool on my ball." He cried. "Satchmo messed up my baseball."

_Oh for heaven's sake,_ Peter thought as Ender stood there holding up his right hand that was now all shiny and with pieces of grass on it.

"I'm not playing that," Neal informed him, from off to the left, his arms now folded.

Ender walked back over still holding his hand away from him. "I don't want to play with a drool ball, I might get Ebola."

"Satchmo doesn't have Ebola." Peter didn't know what the big deal was, it was just a little dog slobber.

Ender looked down at his hand then wiped it across Neal's expensive $200 Diesel jeans, causing the other man to yelp and jump away.

"Aack… What you do that for?"

"I don't want it on my hand."

"So, that doesn't mean I want it on me."

"Says the person who keeps telling me how much he loves my dog," Peter was just standing there shaking his head. "Just stay put and I'll get another baseball."

A minute later Peter returned with a brand new baseball, decided the other was a lost cause. Or at least, not worth the fight of getting the other two to play with it.

"Let's practice batting."

He handed Ender the bat, and wrapped his arms around the kid from behind showing him how to grip the handle. "Just swing through," Peter swung the bat with Ender to give him a feel for the movement.

"Okay, I got it." The kid was clearly demonstrating his independence today, because he pulled away to practice swinging on his own.

"All right," Peter directed Neal to play catcher and then tossed the ball forward for Ender to swing at. It was a great swing at air. And four pitches later it was the same thing.

"It's okay," Peter soothed. "Just try again."

"The sun's in my eyes." Ender dropped the bat to the ground in defeat. "I can't see."

"Okay, we'll change positions. Here switch." Peter walked across the yard and directed Ender to stand where he had been, as walked over to where the kid had just been standing.

Neal just stood there for a moment. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea Peter."

"Quit being a prim Dona," Peter was tired of the excess comments. He had a star baseball player to make.

He ensured the next pitch was a perfect strike and the satisfying crack of ball against bat was a glorious sound, followed by the shattering of glass. For a moment all three of them stared at the hole in the living room window, where the ball had made its mark.

"For once you can't blame this on me," Neal told him.


	5. Winning the Parenting Game

**A/N:** This chapter is for the lovely SimplyOut, who has faithfully followed and reviewed all my stories. The request was for a more serious chapter with Neal and Peter. This chapter takes place after Neal finds out Sam is his father. Will be AU after January, but I thought it fit in nicely with this series of stories.

**Winning the Parenting Game**

"Neal," Peter rapped on the door to Neal's rooms. "Open up." After a few minutes of silence he knocked again. "Come on Neal I know you're in there?"

Another minute, just when Peter was ready to kick down the door, he finally heard the latch then Neal's face was peaking through a small gap. "Peter." The greeting sounded strained.

"Great to know you're still alive."

Neal didn't seem to take the bate. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Yeah, you."

"We'll I'm here, but all you had to do was check my anklet." Neal sounded tired, sans his usual perky self, who was always ready for a verbal battle.

"I kind-of wanted more than just your longitude and latitude."

Neal just stood there, still staring through the crack, a lost look in his eyes.

"Can I come in?" Peter tried again.

For a second the agent thought Neal would refuse, but finally he stepped back, pulling the door open and allowing Peter entrance.

The apartment looked normal, neat and organised, with just a few of his art supplies scattered about.

"Where's Sam? Or well… Your Dad?"

"Did you come here to see me, or to see him?" Neal sat dejectedly down on the couch, reaching for a partially filled glass of wine, left on the coffee table.

"I came here to see you, I just didn't know if he'd be here as well." Peter folded his arms, taking in Neal sullen expression, as he nursed his glass of wine.

"He left. I told him I needed some space."

After everything Neal had gone through to find out the truth, Peter had a little trouble swallowing that statement. "So what happened?"

"I told him what you said. I asked him why he didn't tell me? Why he's been here all this time, and he somehow couldn't find a way to say, 'Hey Neal, I'm your father?" Peter could hear the barely contained trembling in his voice.

"May be he was worried about how'd you react."

"Oh so now you're taking his side." Neal jacked back up from his slouched posture; wine sloshing around in his glass. He looked down at it then down the rest in one swallow, and then reached for the bottle on the table.

"Okay, I think you've had enough," Peter snatched the bottle from Neal's fingertips, just as they've closed around the neck.

"Hey," Neal glared at Peter, then at the bottle held just out of his reach. "You're not my father. You don't get to tell me what to do."

"No, but I'm your boss, and I do get to say when you're too inebriated to make a coherent decision."

"Ooh, two big words in one sentence. Did you have to get your dictionary out, before coming here?" Neal didn't appear too drunk, just buzzed enough to be pissy.

Peter placed the bottle on the table far away from Neal, and sat down on the couch next to him.

"What's wrong Neal, I thought this was what you wanted. It's your dad."

Neal couldn't decide if he wanted to look pathetic or angry, and he seemed to settle for an odd sort of middle ground.

"Yeah, well he lost that privilege when he lied to me. And pretended to be someone else. And couldn't come find me for 23 goddamn years. What kind-of father does that to their kid?" Neal was shouting now, tears glistening but refusing to be spilt. Neal had too much self-control for that.

Peter didn't say a thing. Just let Neal get it out of his system.

"And then he wants to hug me, and tell me how sorry he is, and how much he loves me." Neal paused in his rant. "And that's suppose to fix everything." He was starring off into a distance clearly not seeing anything.

"He said that?" Peter was trying to figure out what had gotten Neal so worked up. He was usually in full control of his emotions, displaying only what he wanted people to see. It's what made him such a good conman.

"And he hugged me." Neal repeated, sounding like he couldn't figure out what was going on. "It's like he expects nothing to have happened. Like he can just waltz back into my life and I'm okay with it."

"Neal I thought you'd be excited. I mean, I understand you're upset he didn't tell you these past couple months, but he's here now. I thought you wanted to find out what happened to your dad?"

"That's when I thought he was dead, and the best I could hope for was to discover he wasn't a dirty cop." Neal looked more confused than anything. After his little outburst, he slumped back down in his seat and stared through the coffee table.

He did look rather pathetic. "Neal, I'm sorry okay." Peter placed a hand on the other man's shoulder and gently squeezed. "I know this wasn't how you imagined things would go."

Neal gave a weak chuckle. "Things never work out how I imagined them. I imagined the white picket fence with Kate, and look how that worked out. I imagined what life would be like after my commutation hearing. I'd be a free man. And that didn't end so great either. Why would this be any different?"

For a moment Peter just sat there. In truth nothing would fix this. And Peter wasn't sure what it would take to help Neal feel better. "I wish I could do something to help Neal. But I can't."

"I had a family. I was just getting used to having a life without him. And he just buts back in and wants to have a relationship with me, after he left my mother and me like an unwanted Christmas present."

Neal just sat there. That same picture of dejected misery he portrayed at the Howser clinic when he thought Peter was dragging him back to jail.

Peter placed a hand on Neal's head, just like he had them, when Neal had been drugged out of his mind.

"So because your biological father suddenly walks back into the picture, you think that changes things with us?"

Neal got that guilty look on his face. The one he had when Peter somehow managed to catch him in a lie, but neither one of them would admit it. "May be."

"Why?"

A shrug was all he got in response.

"Neal," Peter used his hand to turn Neal's head so they could look eye to eye. "I will be the first to admit I wasn't happy three years ago, when I found you sitting on my couch with El and Satchmo. I got you that deal to help me catch the Dutchman. I respected your skills, because you gave me a challenge when I chased you. But I never expected us to be more than cop and robber, using each other to get what we wanted."

"That's meant to cheer me up." Neal gave him a wide-eyed expression.

"You didn't let me finish." Peter kept his hand in place. "Somehow, and I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but we've become more than just partners. We've become friends. And we've become family. And just because Sam, or your father, or whoever he is walks back into your life doesn't mean I'm dumping you. Heck, you number two on my speed dial. It'd take forever for me to figure out how to program your number in and now it take too much effort to delete you off."

That got a genuine chuckle.

"You're one of the only people I trust with Ender." Peter knew they were inseparable.

"We are the best of friends."

"Don't tell Moz you replaced him."

"I won't if you won't."

"I'm serious Neal." Peter kept eye contact. "Whatever comes because of this, it won't change anything between us. It won't mean I suddenly stop inviting you over for Sunday dinners."

"Or surprise breakfasts." Neal smirked.

"Okay, you could call first." Peter replied.

Neal nodded for a moment, as if processing everything for the first time.

"It won't stop making you family." Peter gave a nod when Neal's eyes locked on his.

"I just don't know what to do." Neal sounded genuinely lost. "I want to know what happened to our family, but I'm afraid of what I'll find."

"Whatever you find out Neal, we'll face it together. I promise."

"Sometimes," Neal looked wistful. "Sometimes I wish I really was family. Your real family."

Peter just shook his head, and laughed. Suddenly he felt bad when Neal met his eyes with a hurt expression. He decided to finish before Neal misread his chuckle. "You are Neal, that's what I keep trying to tell you."


	6. Are Cooties Contagious?

**A/N:** I know I haven't updated this story in a while and I apologise to all the people awaiting a new chapter. Between my other stories and obligations this one has taken a backseat. I have a few partially finished chapters, but need to sit down and complete them. Fortunately Valentines Day has arrived and an idea for a cute little chapter popped into my head, which had to be posted in a timely manner. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Are Cooties Contagious?**

"I'm glad you liked them hon." Peter Burke officially looked smug, and didn't even care. "Yes, I'll make sure I'm home by seven. Love you… Bye."

For a brief moment the agent did nothing but rock back and forth his chair, reflecting on his brilliance. Or, more realistically thanking the powers that be, that this time he had gotten the gift right, and he did it on his own.

He perked up, after hearing a knock at his door, and seeing who it was, gestured for Neal to enter.

"Someone looks like the cat who ate the canary." Neal's head tilted to the side. "I can't figure out if it's a good look on you or not."

Peter decided he was not going to be annoyed by Neal's sarcasm today. "I found the perfect gift for El this Valentines Day. Even thought of the idea myself."

"Am I going to be impressed?" Neal had seen some of Peter's gift ideas.

"I picked out 24 long-stem roses and on each one I attached a little note with something I love about El. The delivery guy dropped them off at her office a half hour ago."

"Wow Peter. Your gift giving skills have vastly improved since we first met."

"I know." Peter quickly added. "And El loved it. She called me a few minutes ago to tell me how excited she was. And her employees are all totally jealous. It's great. Even said she can't wait for me to get home this evening so we can…"

"Ewww!" Neal cut him off, his face scrunched up in disgust. "Okay, that's just too much information there Casanova."

Peter was amused. "I was going to say enjoy a candle light dinner together, Mr. I've suddenly become a prude."

Neal pulled a face and seemed to silently snit back Peter's last remarks.

Leaning back in his chair, Peter couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Well, you're the romantic. You're not going to do something nice for Sarah?"

"I seem to remember telling you how she dumped me a while back, so thanks for bringing up a very painful memory on today of all days."

"I'm sure Neal Caffrey can find someone to spend Valentines Day with." Peter pointed out.

Neal sat one the edge of the desk and crossed his arms. "You know, despite all the alleged and grossly inaccurate information the FBI has on me, I am not…promiscuous," he concluded somewhat stiffly as if Neal couldn't think of the exact word needed to uphold his honour.

"I never said that." Peter defended. "I was merely pointing out there are lots of nice ladies out there who would love to date a gentleman, such as yourself."

Ignoring Peter's semi apology Neal kept his arms crossed and stared of into the corner. "I'm telling El what you said," he muttered, but loud enough for Peter to hear.

"Just so long as you tell her tomorrow, and don't ruin my romantic evening tonight."

"Romantic dinner for three? Let me know how that goes."

"Not at all, June volunteered to take Ender for the evening so El and I can spend some time together. She's taking him and Samantha to a movie. I'm surprised she didn't tell you."

Neal just shrugged like he didn't care.

"I'm sure they'd let you tag along if you asked…"

"Don't make it worse." Neal cut him off and Peter held up his hands to concede defeat.

"Fine, enjoy your date with a bottle of Pinot Noir. Let me know if I need to bring in some more pickle juice tomorrow." Neal refused to justify that with an answer and simply picked up the nearest case file off the desk and began thumbing through it. Peter let him 'lick his wounds' in private and turned his attention back to his computer where he was finished up some expense reports.

Both jumped when the door to Peter's office slammed shut. Standing just in front of it was a rather furious Ender, complete with scrunched up face and reddened cheeks.

"Well, hello to you too," Peter wasn't sure if he should be amused or not. "Bad day."

Ender practically had steam coming out his ears. "The worst day of my life. And I want mummy so call her for me."

"Did you not get any valentines?" Peter suddenly looked at the kid in horror. Ender's class was having a Valentines Day Party, like most other elementary schools in the area, and Peter and El had spent all last evening with him, helping him sign and add candy to valentines for the other kids in the class. Kids were supposed to make a valentine for every kid in the class, but sometimes that didn't happen. Peter hated to think the kid got nothing at his first ever school party.

"Worse." Ender spit out. "And I hate this holiday, and never want to celebrate it again. It should be banished from the calendar."

"I completely agree," Neal added, not looking up from his file folder. Peter chose to ignore Neal and instead answered Ender. "It can't have been that bad."

"It was. It was absolutely awful," he all but wailed, flailing his arms for emphasis.

"I had to sit through a whole two hours of decorating cupcakes with frosting and pink sprinkles and playing games like pin the heart on cupid. And then Mrs. Adams had to audacity to tell me I should eat my cupcake. A giant lump of gluten and sugar and grease that will most likely kill me if it touches my lips. And all the kids give you valentines with more sugar crap that I hate. And worse… Lisa Jenkins kissed me on the playground and said I was her 'One true love'."

"That truly sounds like a truly terrible day." Peter acknowledged successfully keeping the smile off his face.

"And now I've been infected, and will probably die of Ebola before the day is out."

"Ender, I don't think you'll get Ebola from some random girl kissing you."

"Are you kidding me? She's in fourth grade, and she kissed me on the lips." He almost screamed and Peter glanced out at the bullpen to see his agents looking up to find out what the commotion was about.

"Both of you have had all your vaccinations. And if you take a bath tonight I'm sure all the germs will wash off." The kid folded his arms and sulked.

"Now you're just patronizing me." Peter pinched his lips together and nodded. "Pretty much."

"I don't know how you and mummy can stand kissing each other. It's gross."

"They do a lot more than that." Neal helpfully volunteered, and Peter shot him a death glare causing the other man to immediately glue his lips together.

"Well I'm not kissing anyone until I'm married and may be not even then." Ender informed them before he stalked about out the door, presumably to find a more sympathetic ear.

Peter watched him go before glancing over at Neal. He was surprised to see the man smirking. "What's so funny?"

Neal chuckled, then turned back to once again peruse the file. "I'm just glad someone is having a worse Valentines Day then me."

* * *

A/N: Ender is a bit of a health good nut, which I know is unusual for kids, but he is an unusual kid so I think it works.


	7. For All The Things

**A/N:** I'm sure both sides can empathise with this little ficlet. Was trying to think of fun ideas about parenting and realised I'd never covered this topic. So hopefully readers will enjoy.

* * *

**For All The Things You Never Knew You Needed**

Peter rubbed at his eyes, before signing off on the last few reports, by the dim light of the dining room's chandelier. It had been a long week and he was grateful only Friday remained before the weekend began. El had been talking up this new restaurant she read about in last weekends paper, and although Thai wasn't exactly Peter's cup of tea he'd eat it if it made her happy.

A moment later Peter felt the hairs on the back of neck stand up, that eerie feeling that told him he was being watched. Glancing to the side he noticed Ender there, standing perfectly still, just watching him with two giant blue eyes. If Peter was to be perfectly honest with himself, it was almost creepy the way the kid seemed to appear out of thin air. He could also disappear just as quickly, usually when Peter was about to suggest the dished needed to be dried.

After about a minute of a rather creepy staring contest in which Ender refused to blink Peter decided to break the silence. "Did you need something Ender?" He carefully asked.

The kid didn't move except to carefully nod his head once up and down.

Peter sensed he would need to give this his full attention so he put down the pen and turned in the chair till he now faced Ender, indicating he was listening. "What can I do to help?"

Ender stayed still for a long moment and Peter could practically see gears whirring while he thought about what to say. Suddenly, after his minutes of emulating a statue, the kid perked himself up to his full height and began to speaking about a mile a miute.

"I've been thinking, and reading…I did lots of research on this, and I talked with my friends at school, and my teachers, including Ms Hawkings, even though I really don't think she really knows that much, but she definitely knows what she's talking about on this, and statistics are on my side…." He took a breath, "And I know you really care about me, and only want what's best for me, and I absolutely think this is very important, because you want me to grow to be a responsible adult, and so does mummy and so does Ms. June and even Neal wants me to, and Mozzie doesn't but only because he's worried about bureaucratic mind control, but everyone else agrees, that I think you should do this." He paused again, now taking multiple deep breaths, his tiny chest heaving from exertion.

The agent just looked at him. "Do what Ender?"

Ender took another breath about to speak then stopped short and took two more. Peter was a little worried he'd pass out. "Sit." He ordered kicking out the chair.

The kid dropped down, took one last breath then spoke again. "You're supposed to give me an allowance." With that he shoved his thumb in his mouth and now stared at Peter with two of the saddest blue eyes the man thought he'd ever seen.

"I'm supposed to huh?" He asked, wondering what had suddenly brought this up. Neal had probably put him up to it.

Ender just nodded, and continued to suck on his thumb.

"Any particular reason why you need an allowance?"

"Thi thust thold thou." Came the reply.

Peter reached out and pulled the kid's thumb away, nodding for him to repeat the phrase even though he already knew what he had said. "I just told you."

"Well assuming I could even followed all that, before you almost passed out from lack of oxygen, 'my friends told me', isn't a viable reason. I mean, aren't these the same friends who wanted to build a rocket pack out of an old vacuum cleaner, and try to fly like Iron Man. You guys are lucky diesel doesn't light that easily."

"I had nothing to do with that." Ender scowled. "And they aren't the only ones. Ms June said she gave all her kids an allowance every week, five dollars each and that was years ago. So with inflation, I should get lots of tons more."

"June said that huh," Peter just nodded matter-o-factly, to which Ender quickly shook his head up and down.

"So if mom and I were to give you an allowance, what would you used it for?"

Ender looked down then back up again. "Important stuff."

"What sort of important stuff?" Peter tried again.

"Important stuff that I need." Ender concluded.

Peter decided this was turning into a fun conversation. "Like what? What do you need?"

"Things that I don't have."

"What sort of important things do you need, that you don't have because I'll be happy to take you to the store right now and buy them for you." The agent countered.

Ender scrunched up his face and pouted. "Okay, maybe it's not important stuff that I need," he huffed. "But it's important stuff that I want and that should count for something."

"So what sort of things do you want to buy with your allowance?"

"Important things."

Peter just shook his head. "You said that, I want specifics."

"Stuff for me, that I like."

"You don't like any of the things mommy and I got you. You want us to take everything back to the store, including Cafall."

Ender immediately shook his head. "Noooo. You're not being nice. I just want my own money to buy my own things. And according to Oprah, Dr Phil and Kim Kardashian it teaching kids to be more responsible."

"Where do you get this from?" Peter shook his head then just held up his hands to indicate he didn't want to know. "Okay," he finally allowed. "But I want to know what you want so much that mommy and I haven't bought for you."

"Stuff…" Ender wailed. "Why can't I have my own money to buy my own things? All the other kids in my class get an allowance, and so I need one too."

"Every person in the entire class."

Ender nodded. "Yes. Everyone I've talked to."

"So how many kids have you talked to?"

"Five."

"And since that's practically 100% out of a class of twenty…" Peter added on.

"Please, I almost never ask for anything, and you don't have to give me a lot and practically everyone in the whole office thinks you should give me one so I can learn…" Ender paused trying to consider the right word, "Fiscal responsibility."

"The entire office." Peter questioned to which Ender vigorously nodded again.

"Yes, they even signed a petition. See?" He reached into his pocket and pulled a wrinkled and folded piece of paper, which he carefully unfolded to reveal row upon row of signatures.

Peter yanked it out of the kid's small hands. "Let me see that." He perused the paper. "All these people signed this, saying I should give you an allowance? They actually signed it themselves, knowing what they were signing for?"

"Yes," Ender replied. "Look." He pointed at one of the signatures. "Even your boss Mr. Hughes signed it. And you always gotta do what the bosses say."

Peter shook his head. "Fine, so what do Oprah and Dr Phil and Kim think a fair weekly allowance is?"

Ender didn't even hesitate. "Twenty dollars."

Peter almost choked. "You are not getting twenty dollars a week, try one dollar."

"A dollar. You can't even buy a soda with a dollar."

"Well, considering you don't like to drink soda that shouldn't be a problem."

"Fifteen?"

"Two."

Ender's jaw dropped. "That's not fair, I dropped five whole dollars, and you only went up one."

"Considering it's my money, I think that's fair."

"Fine fourteen."

"You still haven't told me what you need to buy that's so important."

"Ten?" Ender abandoned his negotiation and tried for the sad eyes and pouting lip he had probably used to get everyone to sign his petition.

Peter sighed. He knew he was going to regret this, but if they didn't come to some sort of consensus he would never hear the end of it. "Five dollars, and that's the best you're going to do." He pulled out his wallet and held out a five, tightening his grip on it, when Ender reached out excitedly to take it.

"But, ff I ever find out you used this money to do anything illegal or dangerous, or even semi-illegal, this ends, am I clear."

"Crystal." Ender nodded, and then turned and flounced away, grinning like he'd stolen the moon, money clenched in his tiny fist.

* * *

The next day at the office, Peter looked from his desk to see Neal, standing in the doorway, staring at him with a pair of big blue eyes.

"Peter…" He began.

"No."


	8. Growing Up Is Hard To Do

**A/N:** I can't believe we have to wait so long will the next Season of White Collar. Especially with the cliff-hanger they left, which I think is bigger than last Seasons. Anyway, this is AU, but I thought I would do my own little version of what happens immediately after the Finale, if Ender were in the picture.

**Growing Up Is Hard To Do**

Neal was sitting numbly on the couch when a sharp knock interrupted his chaotic thoughts. In the back of his mind he knew that sound meant he should be getting to his feet and answering the door, but he just couldn't seem to find the energy.

There was a small part of Neal's mind, okay he took that back, a rather large part of his mind that still couldn't process what had just happened. His father had left him – again. He'd walked out of the door once just like he had all those years ago when Neal was a little boy. Only this time he hadn't even waved goodbye. The hand that once held Neal's own with such tenderness, had pointed a gun at him. And Neal couldn't understand why? What had he done to make his own father turn on him?

This was the same man who had, not to long ago, clutched Neal in his arms, thrilled to once again be apart of his son's life. The man who raved over Neal's art, his perfect forgeries, his endless talents.

Had it all been a lie? Had the only reason he'd come back into Neal's life was for Ellen's evidence box. And had he shot Senator Pratt just like he had shot his former supervisor? In cold blood because he was only interested in the easy way out? Not caring how it affected anyone else around him.

Neal didn't know what to believe anymore. His brain just kept talking himself in circles trying to understand if his father had really just walked out of his life, the exact same way he'd walked back in a few weeks ago. With nothing but lies.

"Nealcen!" Neal started at the sound of his name being screamed just a few inches from his face. He jerked up, his eyes swinging around till they met up to Ender's. The kid stood directly in front of him, two bright blue eyes glaring into his own, hands on his hips, lips pinched together in anger.

"Fix it." The kid demanded, when Neal didn't say anything. Neal just blinked at him.

"Whatever happened to get daddy arrested. Fix it now." Ender repeated.

Neal shook his head. He didn't know what to say.

"Are you listening to me?" Ender demanded. "Go get daddy unarrested because mummy has done nothing by cry since Miss Diana called."

Neal opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "I… I…" He stammered.

"Make mummy stop crying." Ender held out a cell phone, and shoved in Neal's face for emphasis.

"Ender." Neal just shrugged. "I can't. I…I don't know how to fix this. He's gone."

"Who?" Ender demanded.

Neal still felt numb. "My Dad."

"Yes, because mean, dirty, sell out, new FBI boss lady arrested him for something he didn't do. And she's gonna pay for messing with my family. So give the bosses the stuff you found from Ms. Ellen and everything will be better. And mummy will stop being sad. And daddy will come home."

"Ender. I'm not talking about Peter; I'm talking about my biological father. He left."

"Why are we suddenly caring about him?" Ender punctuated every word as forcefully as possible without shouting. "He's not daddy."

"Because my father shot Senator Pratt with Peter's gun." Neal felt like he was having an out of body experience. "Calloway thinks Peter shot him. That's why she arrested him."

"She arrested him because she's dirty. No one would ever believe daddy shot someone if he didn't have a reason."

Neal wanted to believe that. But at the same time it would make Peter look very guilty, if the person who was shot with his gun was someone he'd recently clashed with. "It's not that simple Ender. Peter was investigating Pratt off the books. It wasn't sanctioned by the FBI. This is bad."

"Calloway's dirty. She was working with Pratt." Ender puffed himself up to his full height. "I hacked her phone records. Now get up and go get daddy un-rested. And we can get Calloway while we're at it. I hope she likes investigating mail fraud in Siberia."

"My father did this. And he left." Neal was starting to feel numb. "I don't know where he went, or how can I fix this. He's the only one who can explain what happened and he won't."

"So tell him how important it is to getting daddy un-arrested. Here." He held out his cell phone again.

Neal took it in trembling fingers.

"You have to dial a number for it to work." Ender pointed out.

Something inside Neal broke and he shoved himself to his feet causing Ender to jump back in shock, eyes wide.

"You don't get it Ender!" Neal shouted. "He doesn't want to. He lied to me. He shot his supervisor, and now he shot Pratt and the only reason he came back was because he wanted what was in Ellen's box. He's not going to clear Peter because it means he goes to jail and he doesn't care about doing the right thing, he only cares about himself."

Ender just stood there staring up at him clenching and unclenching his right fist. Neal could tell he was fighting the urge to suck his thumb from all the stress.

Neal tried desperately to explain. "He pointed a gun at me and then he left. If my own father did that to me, his son, do you really think he's going to help a guy he doesn't even like, if it means going back to prison." Exhausted Neal collapsed back down onto the couch and the cell phone slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor.

A tear slipped down Ender's cheek and then a couple more fell. "I can't lose daddy. I'm tired of losing people."

"I can't fix this Ender." Neal repeated.

"Then try harder," Ender snapped, and then dropped down to the floor his thumb going to his mouth. He just sat there tears trickling down his cheeks, staring vacantly at the floor. Neal knew exactly how he felt. Helpless.

Neal had meant what he had told James a few days ago. That Peter had more of a father to him than James. It was Peter who brought over beer (and wine) so they could hang out together and discuss cases or even just talk. It was Peter who did everything he could to ensure Neal stayed on the straight and narrow, even though Neal pushed against him almost every step of the way. And it was Peter who was always there no matter how bad the situation.

Peter got him out of the Howser Clinic; Peter sat with him after he'd lost Kate, and Peter who had risked everything to make sure Neal had a safe, happy life in New York City. And now Peter was going to jail because he Peter had done everything possible to clear Neal's biological father because it had been important to Neal. Peter had even encouraged the relationship, knowing how much that relationship meant to Neal even though he could ever admit it.

And now Neal was faced with a choice. He could choose to let his biological father go, or he could save Peter.

Ender's sad sniffles brought him back to reality. He would fix this. Neal would make it right. For all the times Peter had made it right for him, just like any real father would. Reaching to the floor Neal picked up the cell phone and began to dial.

A/N: Will be interested to see how things play out on the show, but since is all that time between now and the new season I thought I write a short FF of Neal's reactions to what happened, in my own verse. Let me know what you think. I have one more Short planned, and I am still working on Crosshairs, but I thought I would post this since it is finished.


	9. When You Can't Blame It On The Dog

**A/N:** Just a fun little snippet I thought up based on a poster I saw the other day. The writing style of this story and facts about characters will probably seem a bit out of cannon, and off from how I usually write, but I think it will make sense in the end. For all the Crosshairs fans please don't worry. I am working on the next chapter and hope to have it posted soon. I've had to rewrite it a couple times based on where I want the story to go. I truly appreciate your patience.

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**When You Can't Blame It On The Dog**

They were running late and Peter hated running late. El always said he stressed himself out too much about these sorts of things, but he couldn't help it. FBI agents weren't supposed to be late. Well, technically no one was actually late. They were supposed to leave early because Peter was dropping El off at work before he took Ender to school and then Peter had a meeting with Hughes, he had only just found out about last night.

Hughes hadn't been that specific, something about departmentary budget cuts and a whole bunch of other stuff that was really boring, and most people shouldn't be bothered with. So while they weren't leaving early it wasn't late, so Peter really shouldn't be so stressed.

Peter also had to pick up Neal, because it was Thursday, and he tried to pick Neal up at least twice a week if only to keep the man from complaining too much about Peter's lack of caring. And since Neal didn't have a car or a legal driver's license for that matter, even though he had five illegal ones, Peter tried to be sympathetic. At least about the lack of transportation. Not that is sympathy ever extended to allowing Neal to drive because frankly Neal wasn't _that_ sympathetic, as Peter was fond of saying.

Dropping El off was easy enough, but he had to wait in traffic getting to Neal's. Peter had an extreme dislike of New York City traffic. It was a stop and go, bumper to bumper mess that had him cursing under his breath (as silently as possible because Ender was still in the back seat). An eternity later they arrived outside June's mansion and Peter grew increasingly annoyed when Neal wasn't waiting outside on the front stoop the way he should be when Peter was running late.

Peter yanked out his phone and fired off a few angry texts and when Neal still didn't come running out, the agent called Neal's phone and spouted off some more angry words, before sending Ender up to tell Neal to get downstairs immediately, or else he would be even madder.

Ender obligingly jumped out and ran inside, because he always did his best to listen and follow directions. He only paused for half a breath to say hello to June, since manners are everything, before dashing up the steps to the third floor.

"Neal," he shouted bursting onto the balcony. "Daddy said," Ender stopped short, upon seeing Neal sitting at the balcony table with June's oldest granddaughter, Cindy. The art student. When Neal glanced up Ender continued. "Daddy said he's going to throw him back in jail if you don't get your butt downstairs and in the car immediately, except he didn't say butt…"

Ender paused for a moment and whispered conspiratorially to Cindy. "I'm not allowed to use the word he used and I'm pretty sure Daddy's not supposed to say it either because Mummy gives him a dirty look every time he says it."

Then he continued in a normal tone. "So are you coming, because when I left the car the vein in Daddy's forehead was bulging and everything, and I don't think it's a good thing so we really should be going."

Peter's mood had not improved by the time Neal and Ender got in. The agent had just fielded another call from the office telling him a lead came in on a case and he needed to speak with a bank manager on Fourth Street before his budget meeting.

Being too lazy to look for a parking space, Peter stopped in front of the bank, stuck his FBI placard in the windshield, and got out, slamming the door behind him. Ender wanted to go in as well and see if he could snag a free lollypop from one of the tellers, and may some money while he was at it because free money was awesome. Neal didn't really want to listen to Peter talk with the bank manager, but one of the assistant managers was cute and flirting was always fun, not too mention it completely annoyed Peter.

They were just finishing up when the day finally became interesting, or completely ruined by two bank robbers walking in, wearing all black, their outfits complete with the stocking masks to obscure their features.

"Everyone get on the ground or we'll start shooting," one of them screamed waving his AR-15 semi automatic rifle about.

The other grabbed the nearest teller and shoved his SIG into her head. "Open the safe! Open the safe!" He began dragging her backwards the gun still pressed against her temple.

The woman looked absolutely terrified, begging them not to shoot her. The robber with the SIG shoved her into the safe and kept screaming at her to open it and give them the money, while AR-15 began to empty the registers into his black duffle.

Peter shoved both Ender and Neal down behind the nearest desk, telling them to stay put while he tried to stop the bad guys from killing everyone. Chivalrous yes, but not the smartest move on the agent's part, because when had the Neal ever listen to anything he said and stayed out of trouble.

Neal, recognising that SIG was going to shoot the teller when she couldn't work out the combination to the safe stepped up to heroically offer his assistance.

"You know, I could open that for you, there's no need to shoot anyone." He volunteered with his usual charm.

SIG whirled around his gun hand flailing. "Stay where you are or I start shooting."

Neal casually held up his hands. "There's no need for violence, you want the money, I want to get out of here without any extra holes, I think we can help each other."

There was a brief pause while SIG regarded him. "Fine," he snapped, "but you mess up and I'm shooting both of you."

"You know," Neal continued conversationally as he stepped up to the safe and began to work, "you seemed to have planned this out pretty well, I mean, you have the guns for intimidation and the masks so no one recognises your faces, but I was just wondering what your exit strategy was?"

SIG looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you've already been here for about five minute, and the average response time of the NYPD is about ten minutes and it's going to take me at least three minutes to get this safe open. So that leaves only two to make your escape. Not too mention you and your friend are a bit conspicuous."

"We have a car outside." SIG snarled.

"Hmmm," Neal continued. "Not by any chance that green sedan across the street. I hate to tell you this but Parking Enforcement is currently booting your car. Next time don't park in a handicapped zone without the proper placard."

SIG glanced outside, and his lip curled.

A minute later Neal stepped back and the safe swung open.

Suddenly distracted by all the beautiful money SIG shoved his duffle at Neal, demanding he fill it up with money.

Neal obliged and handed the bag back a minute later. His mission complete SIG shoved the teller to the floor and turned.

"Frank, I got the money but we have a problem."

AR-15, AKA Frank looked up from trying to zip his bag. "Don't use my name you idiot, have you got no sense. How would you like it if I screamed 'Jimmy' for everyone to hear?"

"Then why did you just do it just now?" Jimmy snapped.

"Because you did it first," Frank yelled back.

SIG or Jimmy's lip curled. "Just shut up already, we got bigger problems, we lost our car."

"What?" Frank glanced outside. "What are we going to do now? We're supposed to get in and out, we didn't plan for a hostage situation." His finger twitched over the trigger of his gun, and Peter began to ease himself into position to identify himself when suddenly movement caused him to hesitate.

"If I may," Neal stepped forward. "You can use my vehicle. It's the black Taurus just out front there." He carefully held up a set of keys.

Both robbers stared at him mouth's agape, while off to the side Peter's hands slapped at his pockets before he turned an incredulous glare at Neal who offered a little wink. Peter mouthed the words 'I'm going to kill you' before miming a finger across his throat to which Neal just shrugged.

"What's the catch?" Frank asked.

"No catch." Neal held out the keys. "You want to get out of here, and I don't want to die. Besides the car is insured."

Another moment's pause and Jimmy snatched the keys from Neal's fingertips, both robbers back out of the bank waving there guns about menacingly.

"What the hell Neal?" Peter shouted as he jumped to his feet.

"I was thinking they had bigger guns than you, and I didn't think anyone here wanted to be shot." Neal responded a bit indignantly.

A second later the screech of tires could be heard as the Taurus flew out into New York traffic, barely missing a taxi as it began to weave and bob around other vehicles.

All heads watched as the car skidded around a turn and disappeared from site.

"You're an idiot." Ender wailed as he watched the car vanish. "Now I'm going to be late for school."

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There were days when Peter absolutely loved his job. There was nothing better than showing up to work to arrest bad guys. Then there were days like this. Days when you were left explaining to your boss how your CI gave your car to two criminals to help them get away with stolen money in a robbery you didn't prevent. Or the even greater crime of not getting your son to school on time.

He supposed the only good thing about his car being stolen was that he could give the proper information to the police for a BOLO.

Diana and Jones were never going to let him live this one down.

It was too long before a call came in saying the police were in pursuit of the car. Even more fortunately the chase had made the morning news, so the entire White Collar office was able to watch Peter's Taurus flying down the New York City streets, followed by five black and whites in hot pursuit, as a news chopper followed the scene.

All eyes were on the television watching as the car made a sharp right and turned into the New York City docks, workers scattering as the Taurus careened through their work area. The entire office watched as a moment later the car skidded out of control and flew into harbour.

The helicopter seemed to have stopped overhead, camera's zooming in on two figures now bobbing at the surface as Jimmy and Frank evacuated the car. Everyone turned to stare at their boss, as Peter let out a bit of a squeak, eyes clued to the screen, as he watched his beloved car slowly sink below the surface.

"My Taurus." Peter stammered.

"My backpack." Ender added.

* * *

"So you see Mrs. Phelps," Ender concluded, his arms fold, and his little face earnest. "That's why I don't have my homework."

The teacher just stared at him.

"But on the bright side," Ender continued. "The bad guys were caught, and our car is insured, only I asked the insurance agent and he said our policy doesn't cover homework replacement. So do you think maybe I could have an extra day to redo it?"

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**A/N:** I hope the OOC writing makes sense now. Ender might not be the most reliable story teller, but at least he's entertaining. And only Ender would not have his homework because he lost it during a bank robber. So let me know what you think. Readers seem to like the humorous stories the best so that's what I was going for.


	10. Said The Spider To The Fly

**A/N:** I've had this chapter partially written but finally got around to finishing it. Crosshairs is quite dark so every once in a while I try to post on this one with a little humour. People seemed to like the baseball chapter so I thought I would write another one involving some good old father son bonding with Peter Neal and Ender. I don't know a lot about fishing, but based this on watching several different people attempt it. Not my favourite chapter but I hope you enjoy.

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**Said the Spider to the Fly**

It was a father/son tradition. At least it was in Peter's household. He'd gone every year with his dad since he was big enough to hold the pole. And now he was passing that tradition on to the next generation.

Ender being so small, Peter didn't think the kid was ready to learn how to fly fish, but a basic rod and reel on the shore was a viable option. And while Neal didn't seem too enthusiasm about touching "slimy, gill bearing, aquatic organisms", he agreed to the trip since it was outside of his radius, and as Peter pointed out, beggars can't be choosers.

Peter was delighted to discover that Ender actually seemed excited when he suggested the outing. Neal was decidedly less so, but put on a saccharine smile when he arrived at the Burkes early Saturday morning. El politely declined joining "the boys", stating her need to plan for an upcoming wedding to gracefully bow out. Peter privately thought she didn't want to hear Neal complain about touching fish slime, or clean their catch.

The two and a half hour drive to Glenmere Lake was pleasant. Neal and Peter discussed cases and Ender read his way through the third Harry Potter book. They'd been at the bookshop a few weeks ago when the colourful covers caught Ender's eye.

Peter was shocked to discover Ender had never read the series, but leisurely reading hadn't seemed high on his foster mom's list of priorities. Feeling a bit guilty for Ender's poor previous childhood, the agent brought the entire series on the spot and Ender read the books whenever he could ever since.

They arrived around midmorning, and Peter purchased permits for him and Neal, and some live bait from the local gaming and fishing centre.

They were able to pull into a parking lot close to the shore and without waiting for the car to come to a complete stop, Ender raced off towards the lake with a whistle to Cafall, and Neal on his heels, leaving Peter to carry down most of the gear.

Grumbling good-naturedly Peter dropped the last of their equipment and smiled as he watched Ender chase his puppy up and down the shoreline. Neal was skipping stones across the water, and doing his best to ignore anything else, probably in an attempt to get out of any sort of work.

"Ender," Peter called, motioning the kid back. Ender stopped, looking ready to argue then seemed to reconsider and came bouncing back, Cafall right behind him.

"I want a fish this big Daddy," Ender held his arms out as wide as possible.

Peter shook his head. "I don't know if they grow that big in this lake, but we'll see."

Neal ambled back over just as Peter was showing Ender how to tie the hook, sinker and bobber at the proper location along the line.

"…so the sinker helps pull the hook and bait down towards the bottom, but the bobber keeps it from going down to far. And when the bobber gets pulled under you know you have a bite." Peter explained tying the hook on with a Berkley knot.

"And I get my fish," Ender bounced up and down.

"And you get your fish." Peter smiled and glanced up at Neal who rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, I'll help you next," the agent said in a condescending tone.

Neal held his hands up nails out. "Manicure. Fish slime might ruin it."

Now it was Peter's turn to roll his eyes. "Seriously, a manicure that's your excuse. And you call yourself a conman."

Neal looked affronted. "It was a favour to June's niece Samantha. And my cuticles look great. You should try it sometime."

"Did she make you wear a pretty princess crown too because if so I hope June took a picture?"

"Just because you have embarrassing photos of you with that god-awful moustache does not mean the rest of us would ever allow ourselves to be seen in such an unflattering light."

"I notice you didn't deny really it." Peter commented to which Neal put on a classic Caffrey pout.

"Daddy my fish," Ender cut back in.

Peter turned his attention back to the kid, "Right all you need is some bait and you are good to go."

The agent reached for the plastic container of worms nestled within some dirt and held it out. "Just put one of those little guys on your hook and I'll help you cast off."

Neal wrinkled his nose in distaste but Ender obediently took a worm out. The kid never seemed bothered by touching bugs and insects.

Peter grabbed the next rod preparing to show Neal how to set his line up, but after several dramatic huffs from the conman Peter had had enough. "If you don't want to fish fine, but know this, come Monday I will stick you with a box of cold mortgage fraud cases, and you won't get to join the team again until you solve each and every one of them.

"Fine," Neal sighed. "But I want a new hook. Not your used ones with dried worm guts or fish slime on it, or I'm not touching anything."

"You are such a princess." Peter shook his head but selected a shiny clean hook from the tackle box and handed it to Neal for inspection.

After careful study Neal deemed it okay and Peter was preparing to help him tie it when he heard Ender's distraught voice. "Daddy my worm won't stay on."

Peter looked over to see Ender holding his hook in one hand and a wriggling worm in the other.

"See." Ender attempted to wrap the worm carefully around the hook but upon letting go the worm promptly dropped to the ground.

"You have to put the hook through the worm," Peter held out his hands. "Like this."

Ender's eyes went as wide as saucers as he saw what the agent was about to do. "Worm murderer!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, causing half the people on the shore to look in their direction.

Peter paused mid stab. "Ender the fish is supposed to eat the worm, it's going to die anyways."

The kid looked if possible, more horrified. "But…but…you can't do that." He stamped a tiny foot. "When I agreed to this trip you didn't say anything about murdering worms. They help the environment. And you want to kill them?"

Peter held the worm up. "It's not murder. It's part of the life cycle."

Ender crossed his arms. "If I have to kill worms, I don't want to do this. Take me home." He concluded dramatically.

The agent opened and closed his fist a few times in a visual attempt to calm himself down then relented. "Fine, I'll put Mr. Worm back in the container with all his little worm friends. See…oh look at that," Peter pointed to the worm as it slithered back into the dirt. "He's okay."

Ender watched for a second, with a rather suspicious expression, then nodded his head in approval.

"Here, you can use some artificial bait. It won't feel a thing, I promise." He held out what looked like a tiny silver minnow.

Ender carefully took it, inspecting the thing for movement then stabbed it with his hook

"Oh my god, I just saw it twitch," Neal exclaimed jumping back and causing Ender to drop the hook with a cry. Neal smirked.

Peter gave him a death glare. "Mortgage Fraud," he mouthed at the other man then picked up Ender's pole and led the kid closer to the water.

Neal just looked smug, probably thinking it was well worth his prank.

Peter promptly ignored him showing Ender how to cast, then reeled the line back in and let the kid try. The hook didn't quite make it as far on Ender's attempt, but it was still far enough out there that he could probably get a bite from a small fish.

"When you feel a tug on the line, begin reeling him in." The agent instructed, and then turned back to Neal who was still grinning at him.

"You keep this up and I will be sure to have June email that picture of you in the princess crown to every last person in the building." Peter told him, partially wiping the smirk off Neal's face.

Not wanted to hear any more smart-aleck remarks, Peter quickly finished tying of the hook off and shoved the pole in Neal's hands. "I promised El fish for dinner, so if you don't catch something, it's coming out of your allowance to buy some at the supermarket."

Neal looked like he wanted to argue but then grabbed a lure and stalked off. "Just because I prefer a life of Starbucks and taxi's does not mean I am completely helpless. I'll have you know I once survived overnight in the woods, without any supplies."

"Hiding from the cops or spying on a girl?" Peter called to his retreating back. When Neal refused to answer Peter just laughed and set up his own line before heading to the shore and casting off. Plopping down in his collapsible chair with a beer, he stretched his legs out and watched the almost hypnotic bobbing of the float, in the water.

This brought back some great memories of him and his dad. He'd started out learning how to use a basic rod on the shore like this, then gradually moved on to a boat, before learning the art of fly fishing. The two of them had spent many long hours together sitting side by side, sometimes discussing sports and their favourite teams, and sometimes just enjoying the peace and quiet.

To his left Neal had managed to tangle up his line and was quietly cursing to himself as he tried to undo the knots. Peter was almost tempted to help him out, but it was nice to see Neal struggle at something once in a while. It built character. Casting a sidewise glance to ensure Neal wasn't going to impale himself with the hook, Peter left him to sort the problem out on his own.

On the right Ender was staring at the water with nervous anticipation, his hands almost shaking with excitement. "I'm catching a fish, I'm catching a fish," he kept repeating to himself, as if visualizing it would make the event happen. Cafall sat at his feet chewing on a stick about three times the puppy's size.

Finally Ender turned to Peter. "It's not working." He looked rather upset.

"It takes time." Peter responded, bobbing his own rod a bit to stir the hook slightly. He wasn't about to mention to Ender he had a real worm currently speared on his own hook, but he wasn't partial to imitation bait.

"But I've been waiting for hours." The kid whined.

Peter just gave him a look. "It's been ten minute."

"What if I don't get one?"

Peter shrugged. "Sometimes that happens. Fishing isn't just about catching fish you know."

Ender scrunched up his face into a disbelieving look. "Then what's it about? It's called _fish_ing."

"Relaxing. Spending time together."

The kid stared at his pole for a moment then back at Peter. "I don't feel very relaxed."

"Neither do I," Neal huffed having finally untangled himself, although the fishing line, now lay strewn across the bank. "I fail to see how anyone could ever find this relaxing."

"Oh and standing for hours in-front of paint splattered on canvas that some artist says is their naked ex, when they really just threw it everywhere in a moment of rage, is?" Peter responded.

"Museums have air-conditioning and hot docent's to show you around. They're a part of civilised society, instead of this barbaric activity." Neal pointed out.

Peter was getting ready to respond when Ender suddenly squealed in delight and started jumping up and down. "I got a fish, I got one. Look."

Both men looked out over the glistening water and the line was indeed being jerked to and fro as the fish fought with everything it had to avoid being reeled back in.

"Good job kiddo." Peter jumped to his feet and grabbed the pole, helping Ender keep it steady so the kid could work the reel.

"Just bring him in nice and slowly so he doesn't get free."

Off to the side Neal looked sulky, but Peter ignored him to help Ender bring the fish in.

When it was finally pulled from the water, the bass wasn't that large. Maybe eight inches at most, but Ender was beaming. Peter held out the line so Ender could grasp it himself. The fish gave a couple of experimental flops, and then ceased all movement as if playing dead would protect it from harm.

"I got a fish." Ender repeated, looking as happy has Peter had ever seen him.

"You did," Peter told him and reached back for the line. "Let's get him unhooked and we can put him in the bucket."

Ender stared at the fish with big eyes. "But won't he get lonely," he asked with some trepidation. "I thought we were going to put him back."

"That's why we're catching him some friends." Came the matter-o-fact response.

"And besides, he won't be lonely for long, because in a little while Peter is going to bash him over the head with a rock." Neal chimed in.

Ender's eyes jerked to Peter's face. "What?"

"Oh yeah, your little friend there is going to be dinner." The conman continued. "I can't believe he didn't tell you."

At that pronouncement Ender squealed and threw the fish back into the water, hook and all. As soon as it hit the water the fish took off swimming again, the rod being dragged out towards the murky lake water.

"Swim for your life fishy," Ender shouted after it, and Peter just managed to react fast enough and save the rod before it was pulled into the lake.

"Noooo, I set him free." Ender tried to take the pole back.

Peter was exasperated beyond belief. "I'm taking him off the hook, then we'll toss him back."

"I don't want him eaten." Ender cried.

"Do you want him swimming around with a hook and pole attached to him?" Ender shook his head, looking morose and Peter managed to pull the fish in for a second time, get him off the hook and put it back in the water, where it swam off for a second time, eager to be away from all the drama.

"Don't bite any more suspicious looking bugs," Ender called after it, then turned and walked away his puppy chasing after him.

Neal just shook his head. "After Tom, you seriously thought fishing was a good idea? And you say I don't learn from my mistakes."


End file.
